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It all starts on a sunny August afternoon. Light pours through the windows, illuminating dust dancing in the air. Riley’s AC unit whirs, rattling the shades above it and hitting them with a much-needed blast of cold air. They and Eight are sitting together on the couch, controllers in hand: Riley in a tank top and shorts, Eight in a t-shirt and a skirt he borrowed from June. Riley sets down their controller to take a swig of lemonade.
He watches them, as they drink.
Riley sets their glass down on the coffee table.
“What’s up?”
“Oh, I dunno.” Riley leans against the back of the couch. Eight looks away and purses his lips. “It’s just weird. Still.”
“Dude, it’s only been two months.” Riley chuckles. They gesture to the green-tinged burn scar on their face and pretend to reach for their cane, which is wedged between two cushions. “It’s still weird for all of us.”
“Yeah, but.” Eight sits straight, hands curled on his lap. No matter how much time he’s spent here, both at Riley’s apartment and the surface in general, he never seems to relax. “Never mind.”
“Don’t ‘never mind’ me, we’re in this together, yeah?”
Eight looks at them once again, his amber eyes meeting theirs. It’s strange that, even though everything else about them is so different, their eyes are like mirrors of each other’s: or, well, half mirrors now, since one of Riley’s is now green.
We’re in this together. They told him that at the hospital, when they were both getting treated for their sanitization burn wounds. They’d stepped around on eggshells then, worried he’d crack.
He ruffles the end of his skirt.
“Oh. Did someone give you shit about that again? Fuck ‘em.”
“No,” Eight whispers. He stares down at his skirt, tracing the wrinkles with his eyes.
“Good. Those folks gotta catch up with the trends. So not fresh.” They take another sip of lemonade. “No one cares anymore. Tomboys? Femboys? It’s all made up. Guys can wear skirts if they wanna, shell yeah!”
“I—”
“I don’t get it. Who cares if guys like you get feminine sometimes?” Eight flinches. “Not hurting them or anything.” They rub their finger along the glass and take a drink. Eight looks at them through it, his reflection blurred.
“I don’t like being a femboy.”
They pause. He swallows and looks away. They glimpse it for a moment: the oceans of sadness in his eyes, crashing in waves.
Riley shrugs.
“Okay. Do whatever you want, dude.”
“Can I?”
“It’s Inkopolis.”
He grits his beak and purses his lips again. The long tendril on the top of his head droops, falling between his eyes.
“I know.” He stiffens. His fingers curl in his lap, nails digging into his palms. “I thought—in the metro, I always felt… wrong. I thought it was because I didn’t have my memories, because I wasn’t here—I thought it’d go away. But now…” He meets their gaze again, “it won’t go away. And I just…” His eyes glimmer with tears, “What’s wrong with me?”
Riley’s asked themself that question many times.
They thought that when they woke up. And when they were in the hospital, and saw the gnarly burn scar on half their face in a mirror. And when their knees gave out when they were walking down to the subway station after getting groceries. And when—
They look at Eight. He’s always felt unfinished, pale, ghostly—even though his skin’s an earthy brown. They see it now, in the way he holds himself. In the way he wants to disappear.
“If you could be anyone, who’d you be?”
“What?”
“If you could look however you wanted. Be whoever you wanted.” He grits his beak. “What’d you do?”
Eight looks at them, and they know.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you?”
“It’s… impossible.”
“It doesn’t matter. This is a hypothetical.”
Eight squeezes his eyes shut and sighs. The AC turns off. A cloud drifts over the sun, causing the whole room to dim.
“I’d have longer tendrils,” he says. “Not like yours, but Pearl’s or June’s. And I’d wear dresses and skirts like they were made for me, not for—” His voice cracks. “Not for some kind of statement. I’d be less… lanky and awkward and more—”
The world holds its breath. The clouds slowly drift away, sending rays of sunlight back inside. They make Eight glow.
“I’d be a girl.”
Eight sighs. Their shoulders relax, and their whole body does too.
“Okay.” Riley grins. “Cool.”
“It’s impossible, though.”
“Are you sure? June did the same thing. Shell—” Riley lifts up their tank top to peer at their bare chest and the pale pink scars that mark it. “I did.”
“You—what?”
Riley laughs.
“Do you think I was born nonbinary?”
Eight ponders. They shift, letting the light wash over them. “Are you saying it’s possible?”
“If you wanna? Yeah. You can be a girl.”
“I—can?”
Riley nods. “You are. If you want.”
“I… am?” Eight’s eyes widen with shock. Her eyes glimmer, but it’s different this time. “I am.” Then, for perhaps the first time ever, she smiles. She grins, eyes wrinkling at the edges.
Riley’s heart stops. They’ve never seen Eight smile before.
And then, she gives them a big hug.
“Thank you,” she whispers, breathing against their neck. Her arms wrap around them tight—Riley’s never realized how strong she is, despite her skinny frame. They barely manage the finesse to wrap their arms around her in turn, forehead against her shoulder. Her hearts beat against her chest, a strong and stubborn reminder that she’s alive. She’s alive, and she fought so hard to be.
They pull apart. Riley exhales. The person in front of them is the same one she was a few minutes ago, from when she showed up at their apartment. From when they first met her. But there’s something different about her, now, and they can see it clear as day.
She’s smiling, so gentle and soft that they could melt into an ink puddle. Her eyes glisten, tears falling down her dampened cheeks.
“So, new name? Pronouns?”
“No name yet. And—I guess she/her?”
“Alright. This is Eight. She’s a badass. Did you know she saved the world?”
Eight freezes. Then, she breaks into a grin again, and… she starts laughing. Riley’s never heard her laugh before, and it’s so full-bellied and deep. Her eyes water, and Riley goes to get her a glass from the tap. By the time they put it down, she still hasn’t stopped.
She takes a sip of lemonade, then from the newly poured glass of water.
“How can I ever repay you?”
“You already saved my life, remember?” They put their hands in her lap. “We’re in this together. And that means we’re friends, no matter what. Nothing will change between us.”
“You.” Eight reaches for their hands and, ever so gently, grasps them. “You really think so?”
Riley grins. For just a moment, their hearts stutter, but they ignore it.
“I promise.”
“Riley, look!”
Eight steps out of her fitting room and spins. And spins. And spins. The dress whirls around her, in sweeping billows of fabric unfurling fabric. She has a beaming grin the whole time, seemingly unaffected by dizziness.
It’s been like this all day.
Riley thought they would mind more than they did. Really. She’d gotten her tendrils restyled a few weeks ago into four short ones that don’t even reach the tips of her ears: but they’re growing, slow and steady. Pearl and Marina got her makeup, dresses, a box set of the cheesiest romance manga they could find, and most importantly: an allowance for shopping trips just like this.
“Careful. You’re gonna get dizzy.”
“But it’s so much funnnnnnnnnn!” She spins, faster and faster, giggling. Riley’s hearts stutter again. Cod, she’s just so cute. It feels impossible, even though June already warned them how excited she was.
“She loves getting into all this girl stuff. Especially with you.”
The last part confused them. Shouldn’t Eight enjoy it more with June, who unlike them actually is a girl? And chose to be, just like Eight?
They don’t mind. They really don’t. Even if it means carrying three full bags along with their cane.
She’s still spinning. And giggling.
“Do you want to get sick?” They chuckle.
“Weeee, I—” Then, she trips, grabbing onto to another one of the dresses she hung up try on. “No. I’ll stop.” She pushes herself upright and pants, out of breath.
After she catches her breath, she inspects the dress she’s wearing and ruffles it. She giggles again. It’s the cutest thing ever..
“Guess the dress’s a buy, huh?” It is nice, and dare they say, cute. It’s pink, with puffy sleeves and strawberries adorning the fabric. Eight doesn’t respond, she’s too busy laughing.
Okay, this is the last store.
“Yeah.”
Eight goes back into her changing room. Three holds their breath, hoping that she’s finally, finally changing back into her normal clothes and gathering everything up so they can leave. She stands up, the door opens and—
Ohhhh, shit.
She’s wearing another piece of clothing: a long, pink, ruffled skirt.
“Don’t worry, this is the last one.” Phew. “But first, I have to…”
She spins. The skirt twists around her, though not as wide as the dress. She’s grinning the whole time, and Riley watches her feet—for some codforsaken reason she’s been wearing high heels even though both June and Pearl (and them too, for that matter) warned her against them.
And then, she missteps. It’s slight, and Three doesn’t see it until she starts wobbling and—Oh. Riley stands up. Oh shit!
Eight falls.
But it’s okay, because Riley catches her. Luckily, the awkward moment doesn’t last.
“Girl, what did I say about getting dizzy?”
“‘Careful, you’re gonna get dizzy,’ yada, yada, yada,” she says as Riley lets her go and she catches her balance again. “I’m always careful.”
“You literally almost fell.”
“Hey, don’t discredit me! Almost fell. There’s a key word there.”
“You would’ve fallen I didn’t catch you, you doofus.” They both laugh. “Now go get changed.”
Eight walks back into her changing room. This time, mercifully, she stays true to her word and returns in the clothes she owns. She scoops up everything she tried on, asking Riley to give the ones she didn’t like: either because they didn’t fit her, or, in the case of one skirt, it “wasn’t spinny enough.” They release the clothes to the woman at the desk and then hobble over to grab the three bags and their cane waiting at the bench.
“I can take one, you know.”
Riley hands her a bag. Then, the two of them head to the register. Eight stops to linger at some purses one time, but thankfully moves on. Riley’s arm’s already getting sore.
It ends up being over five hundred dollars. They wince when they cashier cheerfully announces the price, but it’s fine. Pearl gave her a bunch of money for this exact purpose. The cashier customer-service smiles at Eight as she swipes her card. It takes a few seconds to process, and then it chimes and her receipt starts printing.
“Thank you, si…” She eyes Eight, glancing at her up and down. Eight squirms. “Ma’am?”
“Thanks.” Eight sighs with relief as she rips off the receipt. “Have a great day!”
The two walk away. Once they’re out of view of the cashier, Eight’s faux smile fades.
“When will I pass?”
Riley shrugs. “Some day.”
“But—”
“You can’t control how others see you.” Ever so slightly, Riley nudges her with their elbow. Their bags rustle. Eight flinches at first, then grins. “I think we should head home, huh?”
“Yeah. Thanks for coming with me,” She gives Three a small smile. “And carrying my bags.”
“No problem.”
As they walk out of Arowana Mall and towards the train station, Three takes it in. Really takes it in. The summer heat hasn’t quite broke yet, so they’re still wearing shorts and sweating, but they can tell something is changing. The heat is a little less oppressive, the dampness not as suffocating. It’s warm. Comfortably warm. The trees are still deep green, but they won’t be for long.
They reach the station. Eight grabs the two bags Riley’s been holding and they both walk down the stairs. One hand on the railing and the other gripping their cane tight, Riley curses whoever thought it would be a-okay to not at least put some kind of elevator here.
They get past the turnstiles, then to the platform. Riley sighs as they finally, finally, plop down on a bench. Eight sits down next to her.
“Thanks,” Her tendrils twitch. “For putting up with me.”
“Du—Girl, no problem.” A low rumble thunders through the station as the intercom announces that a train is approaching. Eight flinches. “I like seeing you happy.”
Eight chuckles and leans back, splaying her arms wide. Riley looks down at her hand, resting on one of the benches’ planks, and reaches for it. As the train screeches into the station, they grab Eight’s hand and squeeze.
“Is this the right one?” she shouts as the train retches to a halt. The doors open, letting passengers stream outside.
“I don’t think so. Wait—” They stand up to get a better look at it. Through the windows, they spot it. Destination: Katsuboro. Shit. “Shit.” They bend down and grab as many bags as they can. “Shit!”
Not looking for Eight, Riley sprints towards the train.
“Riley?” Eight stands up and runs after her. “Riley! Ri—” They step onto the train, and then look back.
They left a bag. Shit.
Riley and Eight both sprint back to the bench. Eight grabs it before they do, so they pivot and turn around. Back towards the doors, towards the train.
The doors close.
Within moments, the train speeds away.
Defeated, Three sighs and makes their way back to the bench. Oh man, they should’ve been paying attention. They were so preoccupied with—with holding her hand, they—ughhhh…
“Hey,” Eight sits down next to her. “It’s okay, the next one’s in ten minutes.”
“Yeah, but now we have to wait.”
“Oh well! Too bad, you’re stuck with me.” She grins, nudging her. Riley chuckles.
Since when was she like this?
Since when were they like this?
They stare at an ad plastered on the opposite wall to distract them from the thought. It’s for some art museum, an abstract mess of colors they can’t hope to understand.
“I have a nickname for you.” Riley startles and looks to Eight. “I uh, just randomly thought of it, so…”
“What is it?”
“Rye. Can I call you Rye?” She looks at them with wide, sea-puppy eyes. Cod, they can’t say no.
“Sure.”
“Yay! Thanks Rye.” Their heart stutters. Before they process it, she grabs their hand and leans against their shoulder. It’s a bit awkward, so she shifts around for a few moments, trying to get the right position. But then she stops.
Shit. Riley’s hearts race. They’ve held hands before: in train stations, hospitals, shell even elevators. But not like this. Eight’s never leaned against them. One voice screams at Riley to push her off them, to scooch all the way to the opposite side of the bench. Another begs her to stay.
Once they look at her, the latter wins. Cod. Their chest squeezes. They don’t deserve her, do they? She’s flourishing up here, while Riley’s only falling behind. Their hearts twist. Seas, she even gave them a nickname. No one’s done that in years.
But who are they to disappoint her? They can let it be, for now. She’ll see it eventually.
Eight spends the last of Pearl’s impromptu transition fund on a gender therapist. It’s more expensive then it should be, since she doesn’t have all the documentation she needs for health insurance yet. Marina has all the papers, she just needs a name.
It goes astoundingly well. The therapist diagnoses her with “gender dysphoria” and refers her to a hormone therapy clinic. Eight calls them after in heartfelt tears. They cheer so loud it makes their fellow train passengers flinch.
To celebrate, June decides to book a reservation at Marie’s favorite restaurant. Riley rummages through their closet to find anything suitably formal enough to wear, eventually finding a plain black blazer and some dress pants. They match it with a button down shirt, a forest green tie Marie bought as a gag gift last Squidmas, and their Rockenberg boots. Good enough.
It takes them over half an hour to tie the tie. It takes them even longer to put all the makeup over their scar. They rush out the door to catch the train in time. When they arrive, Eight and June are already waiting. The latter wears a bright yellow blouse with puffy sleeves that expose her shoulders and navy blue pants. She waves them over to the waiting bench at the front of the restaurant.
And then, well, there’s Eight.
She’s wearing a bright magenta, full-length evening gown, with a slit exposing her leg. Roses bloom along the cinched bodice at her waist, lined with gold edges. Her sleeves puff out, (but not as much as June’s) and she even wears a string of pearls around her neck. She even has makeup to match, both pink lipstick and sparkling gold eyeliner.
“Hey,” she says. Her voice has lost some of its timbre: June’s been giving her some informal voice training.
Riley stutters, tugging their tie. Damn, they way underdressed.
“Uh—hey.”
June laughs at this. She nudges Eight, whispering something under her breath. Then, the maitre d’ arrives and leads them to their table.
The place’s called La Belle Fleur, and as the name suggests, it’s flower themed, with a unique bouquet adorning each table. Eight reaches for the small informational keycard as soon as they sit down.
“Huh.” She looks up at the flowers. “Lilies.”
They are lilies. White at the edges, the interior of their petals burst a bright pink. You know. Riley glances around at the other tables. I think a flower name would suit her.
They get the menu, which is chock full of fancy phrases Riley doesn’t know the meeting of. In the end, she just takes Marie’s word and orders a fragrant pasta dish.
Eight studies the flowers, trying to commit them to memory. She takes her phone and snaps a photo.
Lilies.
After they order, June gets up to go to the bathroom, leaving just the two of them. Eight looks out at around them: outside, at the darkening sky, at the white clothed tables stuffed with other guests, and the ornate stained glass pond whose shores lap against their table. Waiters walk onto it, careful not to trip over the sculptures of lotuses and water lilies.
Lilies. They’re bright, shining pink. Eight stares at them, entranced.
“So, have you been thinking about a name?”
She snaps to. “Oh, I—well, um…”
“Fair. Guess I’m lucky my parents named me Riley.” A waiter walks by. “What about flower names?”
Eight ponders for a second. “Are you just saying that because we’re here?”
“No, well—it’d suit you. Don’t you think?”
“I guess.” She sighs. “What names are there? Rose? Flora?”
“Marigold. Lotus. Daisy. Dahlia. Aster. Poppy?” She shakes her head. Riley continues. “Ivy. Holly. Jasmine?” Hm. “What’s your favorite flower?”
Eight looks over at the sculpture.
“What are those?”
“Water lilies.” She looks back at them, gaze lingering… then, she takes a picture with her phone.
“I like those.”
“Cool.” They reach over the table. “How about Lily, then?”
She smiles.
“I like that.”
Not a moment later, June returns.
“Hey.” She pulls out her chair and slides in. “Riley. Eight.”
“Oh, um—” Eight swallows. “It’s Lily, actually.”
“Wait, what?” She looks between the two of them. “You guys figured that out without me?”
Riley shrugs. “Sorry.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Lily.” She beams, and all of Riley’s hearts burst at once. The three of them resume chatting: until the conversation turns to romance manga, which makes them promptly zone out. They’ve always been more of an action-adventure fan. And even worse, the scar on their face starts to sting, finally agitated by all the foundation they rubbed over it.
Oh, they wish they could take it off, but not now. Not here in front of all these people. They knows that none of them will know the story, but it feels like they’ll be able to read it from the now covered-up marks on their skin. In their swirly green eye.
Their food arrives.
The thing about change is that it’s not always good. Lily might be transforming into a beautiful butterfly, but Riley’s stuck as a soggy wet caterpillar. So, that’s why they’re here, reliving the days where they weren’t.
They take a sip of their coffee. The only reason anyone ever comes to the Plaza these days is for this: the original Inkopolis Cafe, complete with its vintage hipster decorations. Outside, the tower sits, and all the storefronts of Booyah Base are dark: they’ll get replaced with seedy pawn shops, inevitably. Molluskfolk of all kinds chatter about, though none of them are inkfish like Riley. Just fishfolk, crabfolk, a slender anemone-folk, and others.
Someone else walks inside. The door chimes, and Riley shivers when the wave of cold air hits them. They resume haplessly scrolling on their phone.
The person who walked in was an octoling. She glances their way. They don’t notice. She gets in line and orders a hot chocolate.
A few minutes later, she sits down next to Riley.
What the— They jump, and put their phone down. There she is.
“Hi,” Lily says. It takes their breath away. Since when were they like this? “Fancy seeing you here.” She chuckles. They stare down at their drink, hoping she doesn’t see them blush.
“Yeah.”
“When’s the last time we hung out? We used to go to the grocery store together.” Right they did: she’d always pick and stare at the fruits and vegetables, as if she was enchanted by them.
Enchanted. That’s a good way to describe it: the way they can’t stop looking. The way she rests her chin in her palm and crosses her arm across the table, looking at them with a gentle smile. God, they could study that smile forever. They could dissect it, pick it apart, paint it a brush. They could paint her with a brush, and it still wouldn’t do her any justice.
They wish they could let themself stay in this moment, stay with her.
“I… don’t know.” They laugh awkwardly. “A while ago.”
“Too long.” She smirks. Fuck. She takes a sip of her hot chocolate. “I got documentation. Official Inkandian citizen.”
“Oh,” they sputter, “congrats!”
“Thanks. I’m looking for a job now.” She takes another sip and sets her drink down, eying the space. “Something with tools? I dunno, I’m good at that.”
“Cool.” Riley takes a sip of their coffee: they’re running out of them. “Maybe I can hook you up, I used to work at a furniture store.”
“Really?” She lights up.
Cod, why can’t they just make it casual? That’s why they’ve stopped hanging out: she lights them up like a firecracker. Curse their stupid hearts.
“Yup.” They finish their coffee with one last, long sip and set down. Then, they get up to throw it in the trash.
“What have you been up to?”
Great. They hoped she’d never ask.
“Oh, uh, well…” They stare up at the lights: one of those bizarre sculpture-looking things, “Not much really.”
Not much because their skin burns the moment they make up. Not much because all their muscles constantly ache like they’ve run a marathon. It’s hard to drag yourself out of bed when it gets dark by five p.m.
“Well, you got yourself on a walk at least.” They look outside at the hazy, weak sunlight, blocked by a blanket of clouds.
“Yeah.”
Lily finishes her drink, and eventually the two of them head outside.
“Ugh, it’s cold.” Lily shivers. “Wanna take me on a tour of your old stomping grounds?” She glances around the neighborhood. It’s hard to believe that such a quiet, empty place was once so full of life.
“Sure.”
So, Riley tells her. Not about the Plaza, at least at first, but their life: the evenings spent alone or with their single dad who worked night shifts, the primary school field trip, and the day they got their first turfing license. They tell her about the team. They tell her about their ex. They tell her everything.
Everything, well, except how it all fell apart. Deep down, she already knows.
Lily’s enjoying it, but her beak chatters. She shivers, shoving her hands in her pockets. Her cheeks grow red.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m f-fine.” Another shiver wrecks her. “Does it always get this cold?”
Riley laughs. “It’s November.” Cod, she must be miserable though. Oh, what they’d give to take her to a fireplace she could cozy up in front of… wait.
They take off their coat.
“Here.” They hand it to her. “So you won’t be absolutely miserable.”
Lily grabs it. She looks at them, at the coat, and then back at them.
“Are you sure?”
“Yup. I’ll be fine.” They shiver. Okay she does not need to know that. “Don’t worry, Lil’.”
“I—what?” She drops her purse as she threads her arms through the sleeves. “Lil’?”
They shrug. “You came up with Rye.”
“Oh, come on—it’s four letters!”
“So?” They grin. Their chest aches. Then, they shiver again.
“Hm. You know what I think we both need.” She turns away from the center of the Plaza, towards the train station. “A nice scarf. I saw this really cute place the other day…”
She continues as they walk. Suddenly, Riley’s face isn’t that cold anymore. They take the elevator to the platform, and as they inch their way there, the whole thing shaking and groaning, they realize.
They step out. Lily, who had been resting her hand on their cane, lets go.
They love her.
It’s a wretched, full-force realization. A train comes into the station, and they barely hear it. They love her. She sits down on a bench, sighing gently. Cod, they want to hear that sigh in so many different ways they can’t—shit.
Shit.
Here they are, promising things would never change. And now, look at them. Falling in love. Pathetic. They toss a halfhearted balm to soothe their aching heart—when that doesn’t work, they shove it away altogether.
They sit down next to her, stiff.
“You good?”
Riley stares out at the platform, all the way to the bumped yellow line marking its edge. And then, the tracks below. They itch to run, but they can only go so far. Not here.
They love her. In every beautiful, impossible way, they love her. Her lithe, still gangly form sits next to them on the bench, but so much more alive. So much more real. So much more amazing and beautiful and—well, all the things she always was but didn’t know how to express. That Riley didn’t know how to notice. Like the way she puckers her lips, the way she sighs, or the way she instinctively reaches for their hand the moment a train rumbles in.
They can’t. As their train comes, they curse their hearts and ask why they fell for her anyways.
“Yeah.”
“You sure?” Lily elbows them playfully.
They turn to her. Their hearts seize. The lines on her face are soft, round, no doubt helped by the countering. But Riley loves the ridges too, and the stubble.
“Mm-hm.”
The intercom chimes: their train’s arriving. Riley stands up as it arrives, wind brushing against their tendrils. Lily shifts in their coat: it barely fits over her shoulders.
They step onto the train. Riley watches their reflection in the door as it closes: why did they let themself fall in love with her?
They’re Agent 3, even if they were honorably discharged. They can handle it.
Months pass. Lily finds a job at Ammo Knights, and Riley: well, they can’t even manage to make a resume. They apply for disability benefits. She sends them pictures of the projects she’s been tinkering with after work: a charger that can store four shots and dualies with two different firing modes like a Squeezer. They reply and scour the internet for funny memes they can send.
She asks to hang out. They oblige, once: for June’s Squidmas Eve sleepover. They sleep on the couch. Then, in the middle of the night, Lily gets up for a glass of water. They notice her then. She had a nightmare: she wishes she didn’t get them, six months later. Riley knows how it feels all too well. They comfort her, and then she gives them an offer they can’t refuse.
Sleep. In her bed. Together.
It’s the best night’s sleep they’ve ever had. But then, they wake up in the morning, cradled in her arms… yeah, they turn as green as a cucumber. They slip away in squid form and leave early Squidmas morning, not even stopping to grab their presents.
The days grow longer. And eventually, warmer.
They chat, for a bit, until every message makes Riley’s hearts squeeze so much they decide they can’t stand it anymore. She asks to hang out. They decline.
Out of pure boredom, they download YardBand one day. After messing around with the controls, they decide, eventually. to make a song.
No lyrics: Lily’s the poet, not them. But there are leitmotifs, and melodies. Two melodies that desperately yearn to crash into each other, but always pull apart. When they’re working on it one afternoon, an envelope slides through the slit on their door.
It’s an invitation: for Lily’s one-year anniversary on the surface. They unfold the card and stare at it for a long time. They can’t not go, even if it makes their stomach swirl. It’s been months, they can handle it.
They text her Yes.
The day of the party arrives. Riley shows up in a green blazer and pants they found at the thrift store: which perfectly matches their tendrils. And a hat to match, of course. And a tie.
And their cane, but that’s a given. At least now it seems like a fashion choice.
The party’s in, predictably, as the venue was booked by Pearl, a giant penthouse. Riley leans against the wall of the elevator and sticks their hands in the pockets. Their palms are getting clammy, despite their best efforts.
The doors open to reveal a huge, wide open space with dazzling views of the Inkopolis skyline. Music blasts from a live DJ on one end, and people mingle around a punch table at the other. Riley joins the latter.
They’ve never seen these people in their lives. Is Lily really making that many friends without them?
“Oh, hey!” Out of nowhere, June rushes over. She’s in a sunflower blouse and a simple skirt. “Thanks for coming.”
“Yeah.” They raise up their newly poured cup of punch in a mock toast. “No problem.”
They guzzle it and then wipe their face clean.
“I’ll get Lily.” Then, June disappears into the crowd.
Moments later, there she is, as beautiful as ever. With boobs. And curves. Her tendrils reach down past her chin now, curling above her shoulders.
And the dress.
She’s wearing the dress.
“Hey,” she says, smiling.
She’s wearing the strawberry dress.
Three looks at her. Hormones have made her significantly curvier then she was a year ago: and pear-shaped. And of course, she has boobs.
She nudges them. “My eyes are up here, Rye.”
“Oh.” Fuck. They resist the urge to melt into squid form. “Sorry, uh—hi.”
“Hi to you too.” She pours them both a drink, and then they clink cups. “I’m glad you came.”
“Yeah.” They look around the scene, full of whirling bodies they don’t recognize and the deepening sky, turning a beautiful pinkish orange. “Me too.”
“Let’s talk.”
And then, before they can even grab their cane, she drags them away. Her hand’s warm and soft in theirs. They weave their ways through hallways until they find a door to a wide open balcony.
It may be June, but it’s windy outside. The noise of traffic echoes below. It’s beautiful, adorned with plants, tables and chairs, and the view. Above, the first star shines.
Lily closes the door behind her.
“Pretty, isn’t?”
They look at it. Then at her, and swallow.
“Yeah.”
She sits down, smoothing her dress as she does. Riley follows. She finishes her drink and sets it down.
“So, where’ve you been?”
“Oh, y’know—”
Her eyes narrow. Shit.
“Am I doing this wrong?” She gestures at herself. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“What? No.”
She closes her eyes, then opens them. When she looks at them again, they’re the biggest sea puppy eyes they’ve ever seen. She rests a hand on their arm.
“Then what is it, then?”
Cod, it would be so easy—with her leaning in like this, inches from their face—to kiss her.
“I—it’s not you. It’s me.”
Her hand slips and falls away.
“What is it, then?”
Their hearts seize. They can’t tell her. They can’t tell her. They look away: at the sunset, at the clouds, at anything. Anything but her.
She’s still holding their hand. She squeezes it, rubs it. They blush.
“You know, by now I’d thought I’d be sure,” she whispers. “And I am, I guess. I feel like…” She joins Three in looking out: the glass of another building across the street shines golden light back at them. “I feel like myself.”
“That’s good.”
“But I—” She clears her throat and then looks at them. “I miss you.”
“Miss me?” Riley laughs. Then, a knot grows in their stomach, squeezing against their hearts. “You deserve better.”
Lily deflates.
“Who are you to decide that?”
She squeezes their hand tight. Their eyes burn with tears. They try to swallow them away. Then, they blink. A breeze stirs. Lily reaches up and cups their cheek. Their breath stops in their throat. Ever so gently, she wipes their tears away with her thumb. They freeze. She smiles.
“Give yourself more credit.” She exhales. Then she slips her hand away.
Riley’s stunned. They open their mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. A siren cries below. Tears still leak down their face, one drop landing on the table.
“I’ve been trying my best, you know,” she says. “To do it right. To be—” She looks at the sky, darkening into velvet, “to live up to my potential.”
“You already are.” She stiffens. “You’re you. That’s the best thing you can ever be.”
In the lull of this moment, they give in. They smile gently. She looks at them with sparks in her eyes, mouth slack—but then, she turns sharp.
“How can you say that and just—” She grits her beak. “Walk away? Decide you’re worthless? That I’m—”
“It’s not you.”
“Then what is it?!”
Her eyes swell with tears. The words burn on their tongue. If they don’t speak, they’ll be set alight.
“I broke your promise.”
“What?”
“The promise.” They caress her hand with their thumb. “That things would never change between us.”
She purses her lip, furrowing her brow.
“Things change. It’s inevitable.”
“I-I know, but—” It’s different. It’s so, so different. Falling in love was never part of the equation. They were supposed to stay friends. Friends. But they can’t, not when she’s looking at them like that and the air feels so fragile it might break.
“Do you not like this?” She gestures to her body. “Do you not like me, now that I’m—”
“It’s not you!” They stand. “Okay? It’s because I’m, I’m a dumb idiot and I—”
“Stop.” Lily squeezes her hand, hard. “Just tell me.”
“I—” They look into her eyes. Her beautiful, fiery eyes, bright and fierce like the sun. Their hearts pound. It’s a terrifying feeling, to love. To be moved by such a powerful, unstoppable and all-consuming force, to feel it seize your chest and your hearts and your mind. A gust of wind blows past. Lily looks back at them with her big, sparkling eyes, and all they can do is yearn to kiss her.
All they can do is hold the words on their tongue until they burn.
“We’re in this together. And that means we’re friends, no matter what. Nothing will change between us.”
What kind of promise is that? Lily’s right: everything changes, just as the phases of the moon and the leaves on the trees.
“I fell in love with you, okay?”
Their voice cracks. They swallow, looking away.
“And I—I don’t know how to deal with that.” They curl their hands into fists, nails digging into their palms. “I’ve never known how to deal with that. W-what am I supposed to do? Leave it alone?” They look back at her. Oh, her. “I-I can’t just—”
For just a moment, it’s quiet. There’s a current, like electricity: or maybe they’re just imagining it. Lily exhales, pursing her lips.
“Kiss me.”
“What?” They freeze. “Please be serious.”
She grins mischievously. All three of their hearts stop.
Then, she yanks their tie, forcing them to bend down over the table. She whispers in their ear, breath hot against their neck:
“Who told you I was joking?”
That’s it. They’re a cucumber. They’re an unripe tomato. They’re melting into a puddle of ink.
She lets them go and starts laughing. Riley can only stay there as they listen to it: a soft and honey-sweet melody. There’s even tears in her eyes. They sit back down and reach for her. Ever so gently, they brush away her tears with their thumb.
“What are you doing?”
“Returning the favor.” She lets out a small gasp, making a gentle smile bloom on their face.
“Why don’t you kiss me then, you dingus?”
Their hand, which has been gently tracing the curves of her face, stops.
“Do you?” They clear their throat. “Do you really want that?”
“Yeah.” Their hearts seize. “You asked what you were supposed to do, so I thought I’d give you a suggestion.” They stiffen. What?
“Really?”
“Yes!” Oh. Their eyes widen. Shit. “So stop asking, will you? And just—”
They kiss her.
For the first moment or two, she’s stiff against them. But then, she realizes what’s happening, letting out a small gasp. It makes Riley melt. Then, her chair screeching along the floor as she pushes herself closer, she kisses them back. Just like her, it’s hot and fierce: she pushes her way into their mouth like she means it, grasping their shoulder. Fuck. It’s better than they could’ve ever possibly imagined. Their eyes flutter shut. They moan.
She pulls away. She sighs.
“I hoped you’d do that.”
They flinch, taken aback. “Really? You aren’t mad I interrupted you?”
She laughs. “No.” Then, she puts down her elbow and leans forward on the table. “It was hot.”
Oh. They turn bright green. Seas.
“You like me?”
“Of course I do!” She whacks them playfully. “I’ve had a crush on you for so long, and you had no idea!”
“Wait…” They pause. Another siren wails in the distance. “Is that why you looked sad for a split second when I was told you I was a lesbian?”
“Yes! Because I thought I was a guy, which meant you’d never like me!” They laugh. Soon, they can’t stop. Lily raises an eyebrow, and that only makes it worse. Oh my cod. Oh my fucking cod. “I still do, you know.”
They stop. They freeze.
“Or, did.”
“Why?”
They can’t fathom it. A world where they never liked her.
“Well, you know.” Lily blushes. “Because I’m not exactly a real—”
“Bullshit!” They cup her face in their palms. “You’re a real fucking women if I ever saw one. And a beautiful one at that.” They press their forehead against hers. “I’ll say it before and I’ll say it again: you’re you, and that’s the best person you can ever be.”
She gasps. Her eyes fly wide, and then, she kisses them.
They stay up on that balcony for Great Zapfish knows how long, kissing. Unleashing the burning desires both of them have held trapped for so long. She’s beautiful, and Riley is sure to remind her of that: they whisper it against her neck, breath hot, making her shiver. To their surprise, she does it to them in turn. They’re beautiful, Lily tells her, and strong and kind. Strong, kind and all sort of wonderful.
She is too.